


The Officious Omens

by Alona



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:51:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alona/pseuds/Alona
Summary: Millie considers her position at Chrestomanci Castle and assists in an investigation.





	The Officious Omens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thenewradical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewradical/gifts).



Millie supposed Gabriel had asked her because, really, there was no one else to ask. 

The Castle staff was tied up in dismantling the operations of a ring of magical confidence tricksters, which spanned several worlds and implicated knotty points of finance law in all of them – Bernard, naturally, was delighted, and had been attached to the clean-up. The rest of the young enchanters were on holiday or busy with personal projects; and Christopher –

"Would you care to let me know where Christopher has gone?" was Gabriel's unpromising opening when he summoned Millie to his office. His curdled tone and expression of weary resignation said he had already decided that Millie knew where Christopher was and that, further, for incomprehensible reasons of her own, she would refuse to tell him. 

Very sweetly, as was her invariable habit when dealing with Gabriel these days, Millie answered, "He's debunking that coven in Sheffield claiming to be selling the elixir of life, Gabriel dear, like you asked him to." 

"I am aware of what he ought to be doing," Gabriel said. "What I cannot help but notice is that he has been gone for days and has failed to send word. Unless you have heard from him?"

Millie shook her head and looked politely concerned. "We would've heard by now, if there was anything seriously the matter." 

"I had thought, particularly with my retirement already announced, he was developing an appreciation for the gravity of his responsibilities at last. There is no help for it, I suppose." Gabriel sighed faintly and, after a long pause, went on: "I trust you have no pressing claims on your time that will prevent you from accompanying me to Series Seven on an investigation?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Millie said, not very truthfully. "I'm not busy at all." 

What Millie had been doing, and probably would have gone on doing for some time if she hadn't been interrupted, was anxiously considering the careers open to a young enchantress recently out of finishing school. 

She hadn't pinpointed quite where the anxiety came from. Words had been spoken to the effect that she would always have a home and a position in the Castle. And that was without accounting for the fact that she and Christopher were engaged. 

At least, he had asked if she would marry him, and she had said, Well, yes, of course, and he had said, He'd thought he should just get the question out of the way, and she'd told him off for having a swelled head, and they'd have a most companionable spot of bickering about it. So that seemed to be settled. 

And maybe that was part of it. There was something just a touch dispiriting in the thought that she would go from being Chrestomanci's ward to, fairly soon, Chrestomanci's wife. Perhaps, she had thought, trying to rally, it was only that Gabriel was a bachelor, and her imagination was having trouble coping. For all she knew, loads of Chrestomancis had had wives who did all kinds of interesting things. 

Still, she would have felt much better if there had been another choice – an employment agency, say, of the sort single young women in a certain kind of novel turned to, to get tedious positions as governesses. Not that Millie thought she would enjoy that sort of thing at all – but she liked the idea of such a choice existing. 

Being summoned like a truant schoolgirl to Gabriel's office had not had a soothing effect on her state of mind.

Under other circumstances she might have welcomed an outing to Series Seven, even at the cost of Gabriel's company – and Gabriel had originally wanted Christopher along, so the problem must be serious indeed. But right now, despite what she had said, she was getting just a touch frantic about Christopher's absence, and she would have much preferred to stay at the Castle in case news came. 

 

Gabriel and Millie came out of the world gate on a grey spit of rock being smashed by grey waves under a grey sky. A pier stretched out from the shore, and at the nearer end there was a small dock where they boarded a sleek ferry painted glossy black, operated by a bored-looking young woman in colorful trousers. They found seats in the furthest corner, by a window. As the ferry pulled away, Millie met the beady eyes of a couple hundred seagulls perched in an unbroken line along the railing of the pier. 

In open water, the ferry glided smoothly along despite the high, nauseating waves beating against the windows, and Gabriel explained the world they had come to. 

"In magical terms it is entirely backwards. Once it was home to some of the greatest magical civilizations we know of, and had regular contact with all the surrounding worlds. But about five-hundred years ago there a major cataclysm – of which we know little, as the population reacted by destroying all knowledge of magic. Later generations grew up in total ignorance. The result is a disagreeable blend of superstition, isolationism, and an overreliance on technology." 

In other words, Millie thought, no one here was going to take to it kindly if Gabriel announced himself as a nine-lifed enchanter and regulator of the practice of magic from another world. "So we have no formal contact with this world," she said, "and in consequence we'll have to pose as their own officials to get them to talk to us?"

"Precisely," said Gabriel. "Last night we had reports from the neighboring worlds that a powerful burst of magic had originated here, and oracles and prophets in both worlds have been visited by visions of imminent destruction. Observation at a distance has turned up nothing, and I place only limited faith in the accuracy of these prophets and so on – but there may be something in it. We are now headed towards the center of the magical disturbance. I had hoped by now to begin sensing some hint of it, but I feel nothing."

Millie did not feel much of anything either, but that might have been because the sight of those waves was making her sick. She was very relieved when it docked at last, though it let them off onto an island even greyer, rockier, and more sea-tossed than the place they had left. In his black frockcoat, with his grave grey face, Gabriel looked like a dark bird of omen borne on the wings of the storm. If they were superstitious here, it was probably lucky no one was around to witness their arrival. 

A little way down from the dock they came to a village of blocky houses that looked half-sunk into the ground. They had all been painted at some point, but most of the paint had peeled off. The streets were resolutely busy despite the weather.

The grey sky crouched lower, and a patter of rain began just as Gabriel rang what Millie supposed was a very technologically advanced doorbell at the first house. 

An elderly woman with a blandly surly expression opened the door. "Well?" she said, without giving them time to speak. "What is it?"

Millie, feeling she was probably better suited for this kind of play-acting than Gabriel – was that why he'd wanted Christopher along? – made a kind of half-bow. 

"This is Gabriel de Witt, and I'm his assistant. We're conducting an investigation. We understand you've been having some difficulties?" she concluded, in her most official and prompting voice. 

The blankness cleared from the woman's face, but the surliness deepened. "So you're here about the lighthouse, too, are you? Maybe something'll get done now. All right, come in, then. I expect you'll want to hear all about it. Thought that other one was shifty. Didn't I say the other one was shifty?" she asked in a raised voice, leading Millie and Gabriel down a narrow passage and into a spacious, well-lit room. 

"Yes, mother," chorused the four people arranged in the room: three middle-aged men and one girl about Millie's age, with enormous pale eyes and messily cut short hair. 

"This is Mr. Thing and Miss What's-her-name," the elderly woman announced, "and they've come about the disgraceful hoopla at the lighthouse. Board of Museum Inspectors, I expect. The real thing." 

"Oh, yes," said Millie, smiling confidently. "Definitely the real thing."

"We are apprised of the official complaint," Gabriel put in, "but as you observed, madam, we would prefer to hear the whole story from you." 

There was a rush to supply Millie and Gabriel with seats and hot drinks, not quite coffee and not quite hot cocoa and spicier than either. Millie had only taken one polite sip of hers when the whole room burst into talk. 

"That business at the lighthouse now – "

"Such noises and smells and carryings on – "

"And the lights, you can see clear across the island, couldn't sleep a wink – "

"A noise like music, almost, but coming from you own head, the most dreadful – "

" _Aliens._ " 

The one emphatic word came from the large-eyed young woman. The others came to a momentary halt and glared unlovingly at her. Then they were off again. 

"There's no need to bother the inspectors with – "

"Oh, Sara, really – "

"My poor head! Would you all shut up!" 

This last came from one of the middle-aged men, who was doing a crossword and looking decidedly ill. 

Taking this fresh pause as an opportunity, Gabriel spoke with chilly calm: "If someone could describe the precise series of events to me, I would appreciate it." 

After that they became more or less coherent. 

There was an ancient lighthouse at one end of the island, which had become a museum – after some fumbling, Millie was able to deduce without actually asking about it and revealing her ignorance that by "museum" they meant a place where dangerous artefacts, perhaps magical ones, were kept locked up and hidden. The Board of Museum Inspectors, then, was responsible for maintaining them and keeping the population safe from them. It was very trying, the entire household indicated, to share an island with such a place – it wore on poor Jake's nerves – Jake being the man with the aching head. 

Gabriel caught Millie's eye at that – no doubt he had noticed, as she had, that Jake had the strongest magical talent of the bunch, with the girl Sara a close second. 

"Two nights ago," said one of the other men, "there was a racket out there, woke us all up – naturally mother filed a complaint." 

"I hold civic duty in the highest regard," the matriarch put in. "The other inspector, if he was an inspector, showed up yesterday, then went off to look into it – but last night it was much worse, with lights and music, though I didn't hear any music, but the others did – and you could feel the earth shaking. It can't be sanitary, I tell you." 

"Yes, and it just won't do," one of her other sons added. "You'll take care of it?"

Millie and Gabriel said that they would and asked the way to the lighthouse. 

"It's ever so far," said Sara eagerly. "I'll run you over in my car, shall I? That way you won't get lost." 

This was met with a hail of cautions from the rest, to the effect that Sara should on no account trouble the inspectors with her maunderings. Sara did not seem to so much as notice. 

"What did they mean?" Millie asked, when they had all squeezed into a barrel-shaped thing that Sara claimed was her car. 

"Oh, well, I know all about it," said Sara, off-handed. "The museums – they're for alien artefacts, really, aren't they?"

"Aliens?" repeated Millie. 

" _You_ know. Powerful beings from outer space! We've had contact with aliens for centuries, of course, but the government doesn't want us to know, and the Museum Board keeps it all under wraps. I don't mean to complain," she added hastily. "I'm sure you're doing a wonderful job protecting us." 

Millie was not quite sure how much she could stretch the truth in responding to this, but Gabriel, without missing a beat, said, "You must on no account go around saying these things to the first comer, young lady. It could be very dangerous." 

"Because they're among us?" answered Sara, swiveling her head to give Gabriel a more wide-eyed look than usual. 

"I could not say," Gabriel replied repressively. 

Millie, at this juncture, had to murmur something about its being desirable for Sara to keep her eyes on the road. 

"It drives itself, really," said Sara, but complied. After a mercifully short time, she announced, "Here's the lighthouse coming up now!"

Millie peered out – the lighthouse was looming out of the mist in the most disagreeably portentous fashion. Perhaps everything just looked that way on this world. Perhaps it was the weather. 

Or perhaps not. 

When Sara had dropped them off and, after a bit of persuasion, driven away, Millie said, "Would you say you've been feeling an overwhelming sense of dread since we got here? Especially here on this island?" 

"I would not go that far," said Gabriel, thoughtfully, "but I have been seeing things in an unusually gloomy light. Is it stronger here?"

"Rather. Whatever it is, they're right about it coming from the lighthouse…" 

Millie trailed off. She had come to the edge of the cliff supporting the lighthouse and looked down on the sea below – where the sea should have been. 

"I suppose," she said, in a voice gone flat, "that must be the trouble now." 

Gabriel came up beside her – being taller, he noticed sooner, indicated by a faint, irritable, "Gracious!" 

A large swathe of the sea had been drained away, leaving the ocean floor bare but for a few resilient pools. The water had gathered about half a mile from the shore in the shape of an enormous octopus, wobbling around with its tentacles splayed. It seemed to be trying to slither away. Seated on a rock facing one of its huge eyes there was a single human figure. 

Millie was not sure which of them did it, but in an instant she and Gabriel were both beside the figure, which, naturally, was Christopher. 

Series Seven, Millie wanted to point out, was a long, long way from Sheffield, but Christopher was looking so ghastly that instead she just went over and laid a hand on his shoulder. He perked up a little at once, raising his head from his hands. 

"About time you came looking for me," he said plaintively. "I've been keeping this fellow engaged all on my own for _hours_ , and scintillating as my company is I can hardly hope to hold its attention forever. I'm afraid," he added, sounding rather fed up, "that it wants to destroy the world." 

Millie could feel the thing's watery mind pushing at her, coldly curious, and under that she could feel Gabriel joining the effort to keep it contained. It was very powerful, and very slippery. "But what _is_ it?" she asked. 

"If I've understood correctly, which I must have after the fiftieth repetition or so, it's a god." 

The answer was superfluous – the thing was explaining as much to Millie.

"Yes, but _why_ do you want to destroy the world?" she asked impatiently. 

The thing made it known that the humans had offended it and broken faith with it, and in response to its voicing some complaints (the cataclysm, Millie supposed), they had locked it away beneath the sea. Now it had been freed – Gabriel gave Christopher a jaded look at that, likely well-deserved – now that it was freed, it was going to have its vengeance. 

"It doesn't sound as though you'd behaved yourself very well," said Millie. She had some experience in bullying gods, after all, and this one was more eager to justify itself than Asheth had ever been. "Anyway, these people don't have anything to do with all that – it's been hundreds of years, and the people who locked you away are all dead." 

It did not take kindly to this at all and attempted once more to slip out of their joint control. Its attempt amounted to precisely nothing. 

"We'll have to put it back to sleep," said Christopher. "I couldn't seem to manage it on my own, but even two of us could do it in a trice." 

"How was it kept under before?" Gabriel inquired. 

Christopher gave a guilty start – perhaps, in his relief at being saved, he had forgot about Gabriel's presence, and that he would sooner or later have to account for the trouble. 

"It was a shoddy business," Christopher answered. "The lighthouse foundations were built on top of its symbolic corpse, that kind of thing. I've been sitting here thinking up much better ways to do it, only I couldn't do any of them without it getting loose." 

Gabriel nodded, then said, "Now would seem to be the perfect opportunity for you to put your theory into practice. Millie, if you could continue to distract it, I will see that we are not drowned while Christopher attends to his new acquaintance." 

"All right," said Millie, and went back to berating the god. It kept struggling, but it was losing volume – the water was coming up around Millie's ankles. Gabriel levitated them slowly back up to the cliff. By the time they were there the grey sea was back, smashing against the grey rock, with no signs of the struggle remaining. 

"I trust you have an excellent explanation for how you came to be in Series Seven unleashing a captive god," Gabriel said. 

 

Christopher was not allowed to deliver his excellent explanation until somewhat later. First they came back around to assure the family that everything was under control – it had been moderately obvious that the shifty inspector who had first come round to look into the lighthouse problem had been Christopher himself, and it only became more obvious when he came into some abuse from the elderly lady. Gabriel, magnanimously, assured her that his young colleague had done his best. 

This did not make for a very comfortable trip back to the Castle. 

Once there, Gabriel was taken off to deal with a new development in the magical scam ring. 

"I'd say there was a new development," said Christopher, when Gabriel had gone. 

"You don't mean it's somehow connected to this business?" asked Millie. 

"You've guessed it. Those old biddies selling the elixir of life had been getting water out of the well below the lighthouse – I'm bound to say the fools selling it must have thought it was harmless – so naturally I went to investigate. They had a gate set up to it – I fell in." 

Millie, too late, tried to cover up her laughter with a cough. 

"Yes, it was simply riotous," said Christopher, bitterly. "And then it turned out that merely by being there I broke the wards keeping it from rising up and consuming the sun, or whatever it was blathering on about." 

"So you really did do your best, under the circumstances," said Millie, grinning.

Christopher looked martyred. "And how did you end up roped into this?"

"I think," said Millie, though actually she was no longer quite sure, "that Gabriel wanted you along, but he had to settle for me." 

"I doubt that. You were the perfect person for handling that old thing. And it's a good thing anyway – you've been drooping lately. You needed taking out of yourself." 

"Drooping! It hasn't been as bad as all that… I've only been wondering… well, wondering what I'm meant to be doing now." 

"But my dear girl," said Christopher, getting provokingly high and mighty, "you're one of the Castle staff! You're about the most wildly powerful person here! You don't seriously expect anyone to turn you out, or make you account for yourself? And I'll bet you anything Gabriel wanted you along all the time, because you're so good at dealing with all sorts of different people." 

"I am?" Millie considered it. "I suppose I am, at that." 

"Trust you not to notice. Anyway, you know perfectly well I would go mad without you here. Don't tease a fellow, Millie – if you ran off, I'd simply have to come after you." 

"You've no room to talk – I thought you weren't going to pull disappearing acts anymore." 

Smiling ruefully, Christopher said, "I didn't mean to, this time. It just happened." 

"Well, let's figure out how to put it to Gabriel best, so he sees it's really not your fault that it just happened…" 

"Do I detect some sarcasm?" 

"Oh, no. And then… It would be awfully convenient to have a representative on that world, wouldn't it? That girl Sara… We don't know that the god thing didn't come from outer space, do we? She might well be right about its being an alien." 

"That's exactly the sort of thing I mean," Christopher said. "You're just full of useful suggestions like that. I'm sure I won't be able to keep this place running without you." 

In a repressive voice, Millie said, "Now you're just getting silly." 

But she was certainly not worrying about her career anymore.


End file.
